Coffee Stains on My Shirt
by Kitirose
Summary: "Jeesus Christ!"   "Oh God quit your whining!" KLAINE
1. Prologue

A/N: LAURA THIS IS FOR YOUUU!

My friend asked for a Klaine fic, for Valentine's day, so, here I go...

Kurt is kinda bitchy so watch out for that, but other than that, go enjoy it!

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><p><em>"Jeesus Christ!"<em>

"Oh God quit your whining!"

That was most certainly not the first thing Blaine expected to hear, after being spilt with a grande non-fat mocha. Not to mention the stuff was burning his skin, where it touched, and had completely ruined his white v-neck shirt. Blaine had dropped his stuff onto the pavement and was whimpering slightly at the burns. He looked up at the man who now stood with a half-empty cup in his hand, an eyebrow raised and hair perfectly styled.

"What would _you _do if you had a coffee spilt on your shirt?" Blaine growled and picked up some snow off the ground, to cool his chest off. It hurt, like a bitch. Blaine's curls got all in his face as he was looking at the snow slowly melt, on his red burnt skin. As Blaine glanced at the strange young man in front of him through his hair, he could almost swear the man, was smirking and licking his lips, watching him first-aid his wounds.

"I'd call the whoever it was a fucking ass, and make him buy me a new shirt", the young man said, tapping his foot on the ground, "and now, because you couldn't look before you, I don't have a coffee." Blaine could only gape. This was the most inconsiderate man on the planet, he then concluded.

"So if someone did this to you, you'd act the victim, but also, now that you're the one who's coffee emptied on my, now burnt, skin, you're acting the victim? You make no sense", Blaine scooped another handful of snow, and hoped the burns on his skin weren't serious.

"Yes, that's exactly it, actually. Congratulations, you got it, now I have to get going, I have a class in about", the man checked his watch, "right at this moment, so you've inconvenienced me even further. Thank you for this lovely morning cheer up." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice, as he turned on his heel on left. Blaine stared after the man, and shook his head. What an arrogant bitch.

Good-looking bitch though, he noted, as he gathered his things from the ground. By the looks of the man, he was rich; all of his clothes were designer, from his boots to the handbag he had been holding at the crook of his elbow. And all the clothes looked tailored as well. Not something an everyday person would wear. All in all, he looked like a rich prick, the kind that he usually hated and avoided with all cost, but damn, this stranger had been fine.

Blaine shook his head and rubbed his chest carefully. He was going to be late for class again.

_Fuck class though_, he thought and took a turn back to his apartment.

He probably couldn't even have concentrated anyways.


	2. Where Kurt's professor has an idea

No further words, so enjoy this chapter

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><p>Kurt Hummel's day could not have been going in a worse direction.<p>

He couldn't even concentrate on class, especially after what had happened in the morning. All the things, even the upcoming fashion show, he had been hired to help at, were running through his head. He was paranoid whether he had forgotten to feed his cat. Even the shaggy stranger he'd spilt his coffee on, didn't seem to leave his thoughts and mind. It wasn't like his attention span was bad but now that he had already been deprived of his morning coffee it was worse. It hadn't been his fault anyway that a stranger just decided to walk right into his drink. He'd been late for class and now he had to offer a proper excuse to his professor, for why he was late. On top of everything, he had an assignment due the next day, and he had a night shift at the store. Considering all of this, it was no wonder; he was lacking ability to concentrate.

The professor was lecturing, and most of the people were taking proper notes. Kurt's mind just couldn't stay on anything. Kurt came back to class from his thoughts as his classmates started packing up and leaving the class. Kurt felt like running off, but knew his professor was looking for an excuse of some sort. It wasn't the first time he'd been late like that.

"I'm so sorry, Sir, I spilt my coffee on a stranger on the street and…" Kurt begun, but was interrupted by his professor.

"I think that is one of the most frequent excuses I hear, day to day, you have to be a bit more original than that", his professor nodded, quite amused. Kurt sighed in despair.

"What do you want me to say! It's the truth", Kurt crossed his arms and looked frustrated with himself, his situation, and most of all his ass of a teacher, who didn't believe him.

"If it really is the truth, then I have an assignment for you. It's actually a part of your course work, but you get a head start", his professor nodded, at his own idea, that Kurt was now dying to know. If he and his poor punctuality had any way of getting out of trouble, he would take it, in an instance.

"Yes?" Kurt prompted, eager to know.

"Your assignment is to find the person whose shirt you most likely ruined this morning. Then get to know the person, and design a portfolio of clothes for that individual. It must completely compliment this person's personal style, dressing comfort. Also, you have to use knowledge you have gained about clothes designing in this course. Got all of that down then?"

"I have to do what now?" Kurt was dumb-founded. His old hag of a teacher could not be serious. Bad enough, the man from that morning had soaked his precious coffee, into his white shirt, but Kurt had to get to know him? AND then design a whole portfolio of clothes? This could not be for real.

"Design a portfolio for this person. Also, you have to write up half a page for each outfit, why it fits the person and their lifestyle. The portfolio is ten outfits, but if you get carried away, do more, by all means. Oh and due date is let's give it a month then", his teacher gave a smile, "Now scurry off, you have to go hunting for a stranger in a city of millions."

Kurt walked out of the building and swore under his breath. Where was he even going to start looking for the man? Rubbing his face, Kurt started striding to the subway. If he wasn't careful, he'd be late for work as well. The difference was that there he couldn't get away with, with just an extra assignment.


	3. Where Blaine's day seems to go up and do

I just can't seem to write anything long, I apologize...

And thanks everyone who is following/favoriting this story :)

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><p>The rest of Blaine's day seemed to be going up from his morning. Although it was debatable if any day could even have gone worse from the morning he had had. He rubbed some ice gel on his chest and kicked back, watching a midday soap opera. Not that it was much of entertainment, but he found it felt better being at home doing nothing then being at a lecture, doing nothing. He had to take into count that he had work in the evening though.<p>

Blaine closed his TV and glanced at the desk where many unfilled outdated job applications laid, scattered. Blaine might have been the most unorganized person in the whole of New York. All of those job applications were from over half a year ago, before he had gotten a job as a waiter in a nearby restaurant. He did part-time modeling, in fashion shows, where they desired many people, and they were constantly looking for new faces. Blaine had gotten lucky many times, and had a job, at an Alexander McQueen fashion show, that was coming up, just in the same week actually!

This then brought to mind, he'd promised to go see what he was going to be wearing at the show, any time before the actual day. Blaine rubbed his face and hissed as suddenly his parakeet came to life and started croaking incoherent babbles. Blaine got up to see what his small blue bird, Leilani wanted. Attention probably, he thought and stuck a finger for the bird to peck at affectionately. After a while though the bird lost interest and went back to hooting aimlessly. Blaine groaned with boredom.

With nothing better to do, he set for the streets.

It was clearly rush hour. It was hard to do anything, in the crowds. Blaine hardly moved forward ten meters in a minute. To be honest rush hour was not his favorite time of day. He even thought of turning back many times, but when he looked behind him, he could just sense it would not be wise to start rushing the opposite direction. So he was stuck in the mass of people, like sardines in a can.

It took him close to an hour to get to the Alexander McQueen store. He sighed in relief as he breathed the heavily perfumed air inside. There was a little bell on the door, and as it chimed cheerfully, it attracted the attention of the clerk in the store. Blaine stared at the man in shock. The man stared right back.

"_You!"_ the man said, and Blaine wasn't sure if it was angry or delighted. Accusing or relieved.

"Me, yes, the same man you poured your coffee all over", Blaine glared at the man a little, as he straightened up from folding shirts.

"Yes, um… Well, sorry for that", the man said, with what actually sounded like honest apology. Blaine was confused with the change of character. This morning, the person before him had been the most selfish person, he'd ever had the pleasure of dealing with, and now he was all awkward, like he was trying to figure out something how he was going to say something.

"Apology accepted. Also, I didn't come here just to be um'd at, so, I'm doing a fashion show for you, Blaine Anderson…" Blaine said scruffing up his hair even more. The man nodded and scurried off, to see what the instructions had been, in these situations. As the man passed Blaine by, Blaine caught the name, Kurt from his name tag.

"Well, I apparently am supposed to have clothes put aside for you, so I'll go look for those, but before that, I have to ask something of you", this Kurt said, and it seemed with every word, his status was shrinking.

"What is it then?" Blaine was confused.

"Can you be my friend?" Kurt asked, with a voice that resembled a small child's.


End file.
